#Cillian Murphy The Party

[luluartpop]

Cillian Murphy interview for "The Party" (2017)

[grethagerwig]

cillian murphy on the set of ‘the party’

[remembering-angels]

Going to a dinner party tonight, cillian if you are out there bring the-

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Guess | Tom (The Party)

summary — you suspect that your dad's best friend is stealing your panties…and you can’t help but play into it.

warnings — panty stealing fetish/kink, smut, p in v, oral (m!receiving) unspecified age gap, pervert!tom sort of but like not entirely

word count — 2.2k

masterlist

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You watched your dad as he talked to his lifelong best friend, Tom, about the game that was on TV earlier. Your dad had known him for since he was in college himself, so he was a true friend to your family through and through.

As you reached into the fridge to grab a bottle of water in your favourite pink pyjama set, your dad excused himself from the kitchen, leaving you and Tom alone.

It was never awkward with him, though, having known him for so long. In fact, as of recently, you almost felt this sort of…tension between the two of you whenever he came over. You tried to reason with yourself about it — he was your dad's best friend and he was significantly older than you, so there should be no reason for you to feel this way towards him. There should be no “tension” at all.

But ever since your panties started to go missing each time he came over, you had a feeling all that palpable tension wasn’t there for no reason. 

Ever since you were younger, you'd always found Tom to be “good looking,” per se, but ever since his divorce and since you started college, you started to find him really attractive.

Every single time he’d come over, you’d get irrevocably turned on. You even started to have vivid fantasies about him, especially at night, and you found yourself wishing his fingers were touching your aching cunt instead of your own.

So, consequently, each time you saw him, your underwear always had a little damp patch on them from how wet he made you, meaning you had to constantly go excuse yourself to change into a different pair. You couldn’t help it — it’s not your fault that he was so god damn attractive without even trying. 

But then things...changed. You started to notice that every time you went upstairs to go change your panties, it seemed you could never find the pair you had been wearing prior, even after looking for them for like twenty minutes. You swore you threw them into your hamper, but then when you checked, they weren’t there. 

About two months ago, you threw your favourite lacy black pair with the little bows into your laundry hamper which you kept in your room. After reapplying your lip gloss in the bathroom, you saw Tom come out of your bedroom. As he was about to go back downstairs, you saw him casually stuffing something into his pocket — black and lacy — before sneaking off downstairs, unaware that you’d just seen him do something so filthy. 

But if it was so filthy, then why did it turn you on so badly? 

You’d suspected that he may have been stealing your panties, but to actually see him doing it had butterflies erupting in your chest.

Naturally, after you found out — you started to play into it. You’d leave a pair of lacy, baby pink underwear hanging from your hamper then asking him to get something upstairs in your bedroom for you, or you’d “accidentally” drop something on the floor, only to bend over and give him a little glimpse of what was underneath your shorts.

You wanted him to see how wet he’d gotten you.

Hell, you even got so ballsy with it that one time, you actually stuffed a pair of your panties into his coat pocket before he went back home — but neither of you ever happened to bring it up afterwards.

As you stood in the kitchen wearing your pink pyjamas, throwing him an innocent smile as you sipped on your water, his eyes immediately went to your lips, then to your very short pyjama shorts, and then finally back up to your face. 

“You’re up late,” he mused, “I thought you had classes in the morning?”

“I’m surprised you remember,” you said, biting your lip as you found it rather endearing that he even remembered your class schedule from when you told him ages ago. “I have a reading break, so I have the rest of the week off."

He hummed in acknowledgement, peering over his shoulder, presumably seeing where your dad had gone. “Your father had to take an important call, I reckon,” Tom said softly with a shrug. “Somethin’ about work…”

You nodded, not sure what else to say after finding out that Tom had quite literally been stealing and stuffing your underwear into his pockets...and that he knew that you knew.

But to you, it just made it all the more thrilling. 

The thought alone was enough to make you wet again — then suddenly, an idea struck you.

“I’ll be right back, just gonna go change into something warmer. I’m kinda cold,” you said innocently, and you noticed the way his blue eyes almost lit up when you mentioned you were going to get changed. 

“Alright,” he responded casually.

As you got upstairs, you quickly took off your underwear — a pretty, pink, lacy pair — before putting your pink pyjamas back on. No, you weren’t actually cold, you just wanted to see if you could catch him stuffing his pockets again…

So you tossed your damp panties (all thanks to Tom) into your hamper before making your way back downstairs. Tom was stood in the kitchen like he was five minutes ago, and you could hear your dad talking to someone on the phone in his office. Clearly he’d be wrapped up with that for the next little while. 

“Thought you were cold?” Tom gestured to your pyjamas which you hadn’t changed out of.

“Actually, once I got upstairs I realized I was actually a little hot,” you said before “accidentally” knocking an apple out of the fruit bowl on the kitchen island. “Oops.” 

You bent down to grab the apple off of the kitchen floor, causing your shorts to ride up and show the outline of your soaking cunt, which by the way, left a small little wet patch on your pyjamas. The way he had you dripping like a leaking faucet should've been criminal.

“Christ,” you heard Tom breathe out from behind you, “erm…I’m just going to go use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” 

You looked over your shoulder at him as he excused himself and hurried upstairs, causing you to smirk as you placed the apple back into the fruit bowl. You followed him upstairs after a few minutes, noticing how your bedroom door was cracked open slightly. 

You made your way to the door, pushing it open quietly as your eyes widened at what you were met with.

In your bedroom, Tom was on your bed, his thick cock being fisted by his right hand with your lacy pink panties in the other. You knew he had a thing for your underwear, but you didn’t realize he was actually hanging onto them while he jerked off. 

“Tom?” You asked softly, causing him to startle and immediately turn red as you closed the door behind you.

“Fuck— shit, I’m sorry—“ he tried to cover himself with a frilly pillow from your bed, but you weren’t having it. You went over to him, yanking the pillow from his hands, making him let out a choked sound. “What are you doing?!“

“Keep going,” you encouraged softly, your bottom lip between your teeth as you crawled onto your bed. “I wanna watch.” 

He looked like he’d seen a ghost as he froze for a few moments, before slowly starting to stroke his length again, blue eyes locked on yours as his brows were furrowed. “You’re so dirty,” you teased, getting between his legs, “dirty old man.” 

He let out a breathy groan under his breath — but it was true. You were so much younger than him, and yet here he was, stealing your panties and then coming to them. Coming to the thought of you.

He pictured you so many times while fisting his cock, the way you’d look in your underwear, posing for him, especially in those skimpy little lace ones. The way your pretty lips would look wrapped around his cock; how you’d lick it, spit on it, choke on it…

“Why don’t you – fuck — have a taste, sweetheart?” he suggested, making your cheeks heat up. You crawled between his legs, resting on your stomach as you reached over to replace his hand with yours. 

Gently, you wrapped your hand around this thick, veiny cock before popping him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. He let out a moan, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. His hips bucked up, causing you to choke on his cock, making him curse under his breath as his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this — it’s like you were made to suck cock, baby,” he praised you while breaching your throat barrier, making tears well up in your eyes. You continued to use your hand, moving it up and down his cock while you took him in your mouth. 

After you deepthroated him a few more times, you took his cock out of your mouth, letting out a big gasp for air as you did so. Tom looked at you with glossy eyes like he was drunk off of the feeling of you. 

“You’re disgusting,” you found yourself saying, but you were undressing as the words left your lips. “Like, you’re actually fucking gross — stealing my panties and jerking off to them? Are you kidding me?”

“What’s disgusting is that you actually like it,” he smirked, eying you carefully as you stripped down into nothing. The second you were naked, he pressed you down on the bed, stomach pressed up against the mattress with a pillow underneath to prop your ass up. “How wet am I making you if you're having to change your panties every time I come over?"

He stroked his cock a few times, tossing his blazer off into the corner of the room carelessly, before lining his fat cock head up with your soaked entrance. He teased your dripping folds with his cock, “I’d always try and guess what colour panties you were wearing. Then you'd bend over and I would get to see if my guess was accurate."

Before you could respond, he suddenly pushed into your cunt with little resistance, splitting you in two with just how thick he was alone. His length stretched you out, causing you to let out a choked mewl as he let out a low groan, fucking you relentlessly into the mattress as he pulled your hair back. “You’re such a dirty little girl,” he growled, “you wanted me so badly — mm, fuck. That’s a tight pussy.” 

“Uh-huh,” you said, your mind going numb, “y-yeah, fuck— Tom! Fuck, Tom!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” he cooed mockingly. “I bet you love getting fucked stupid, don’t you? Is this what you wanted? Say it, baby.” 

“Yes!” you wailed. “Yes, ugh, fuck! I wanted you to see how w-wet – mmph!” 

“Come on,” he encouraged, fucking you deeper as he held you up by your hair almost painfully. “Spit it out.”

“I wanted you to see how wet – my god – you made me!” you screamed, feeling his cock spear you so deeply, you thought your insides were being rearranged. “I’m gonna cum, oh my god—”

“Already?” he teased, ramming your tight little cunt with as much strength as he could. “You’re so cute.” 

“Tom, I—“ 

You barely got the words out as you came all over his cock, coating him with your juices as you whined and moaned his name over and over again. “Good girl, fuck—“ he choked out, feeling your cunt clench down on him as your release washed over you. 

“I’m not gonna last either, your pussy’s so tight. Jesus, baby,” he said lowly, fucking you harder, plowing your abused little hole faster. “Gonna fuckin’ fill this cunt, s'all mine.”

He continued to thrust into you from behind, hands still gripping your hair so that he could get a look at your pretty face while he did so. You were a shaking mess at this point, but he continued to ram his thick cock deeper, causing you to let out hoarse screams and inaudible sounds. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, hips stuttering as he slammed himself into you over and over again. “Yeah, that’s it — fuck.”

You moaned as you felt the heat pool in your stomach, his warm seed filling you raw as he let go of your hair finally. Your head hit the pillows softly and you propped yourself up onto your elbows gently as he stilled in your abused hole, now stuffed with his cum. 

“So good for me, baby,” he said, pulling out of you as he watched his cum drip out of your cunt, smearing onto your inner thighs.

You let out a soft sigh before your dad started to call out your name from downstairs — you only prayed that by the grace of god, he was too wrapped up in his call to notice that his best friend had his daughter pressed up against a mattress upstairs while ruining her. 

“One second!” You shouted, scrambling to get up as Tom got dressed with you. Rummaging around your dresser drawers, you tried to find your favourite skimpy, red underwear but Tom called your name out softly, causing you to look over your shoulder at him. 

He held up the red lace panties you were looking for, but then he shoved them into his pocket, smirking at you before reaching for the doorknob, his face slightly flushed and his hair tousled.

“If you want these back, then you're gonna have to come over to my place tonight and come get them from me, baby."

ੈ✩‧₊˚

taglist

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[possession]

THE PARTY (2017) dir. Sally Potter

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

PICK THE LATTER

KINKTOBER DAY 22 - OVERSTIMULATION WITH TOM

Pairing.| Tom x fem!reader

Summary.| You're given an ultimatum after Tom accuses you of cheating, be fucked endlessly or be left on the edge. You should have picked the latter.

Warnings.| Dubcon, p in v, rough sex, overstimulation, drug use, infidelity.

Word count.| .6k

Notes.| I’ve realised this is quite similar to my Emmett one lmao

“Tommy- I… I can’t do this anymore” you gasped out, your sloppy walls were twitching around Tom’s size like a malfunctioning machine. 

“Shut up” Tom grunted, his Irish accent thick. 

Still somehow he was ramming into you at a high speed. This must be a nightmare, because the physicality to his movements seemed impossible. His cock moved around like clockwork inbetween your slippery, tight walls. Dark hair completely slicked back from the excessive sweat. Tom’s eyes were wide with desire, jealousy, anger and – well, cocaine. The look of fear and pain in your eyes made him soften momentarily. A congested sniff erupted as he egged his head in frustration, he needed to stay focused, if only could have another line. But allowing you and your dirty little cunt to have a break demanded otherwise. 

“Did Peter fuck you this good?” Tom taunted as he pushed his tip in as far as physically possible. 

You screamed out, your throat felt like a match was lit up inside by the harshful reaction. Legs trembled like a tree in the wind. After weakly attempting to shove him away with your palms, you quickly gave up and slumped back onto the couch. 

“Tom, I swear!” you protested through a long whine. 

“Shut up!” Tom repeated himself as he forcefully fucked you again. 

You did not fuck Peter. However, if Tom hadn’t stumbled upon your constant back and forth messages of poems to one another, he wouldn’t have been able to swipe you off of that pathway. Being around Peter just felt so romantic, almost fairytale like. Yes, Tom gave you everything you needed, but the thrill of his cocaine addiction had quickly soured into a burden. Dating an older guy was clearly highly romanticized. It was almost like being a mother half of the time, for men in finance are highly immature. 

Not to mention, Tom wasn’t as faithful as he had expressed himself to be. Because it wasn’t him, it was the drugs. It was only ever blowjobs anyways. This was most worse on your behalf however. Because this wasn’t lust, this was love. Tom was not prepared to lose you, ever. It shouldn’t be that difficult to show you who you belong to, who’s cock you crave to jump onto every single night. You needed him more than you could ever know. 

So after a calmful confrontation, he offered you two options. Be fucked senselessly or be left on the edge of your orgasm. You physically snorted at him, your expression full of pride and confidence. 

It was Tom… The guy who had passed out during sex before he was that fucking high. Most of the time, you fucked him. He clearly was off his head yet again. So you arrogantly picked the first option. 

“Please Tom! It hurts so badly!” You cried. 

“Good, maybe you can understand how badly you hurt me” Tom spat, his lips an inch away from yours. 

Desperately you wanted to kiss him, to prove to the both of you that you loved him, were devoted to him. But his impulsive mind was convinced that he needed to treat you as what you were, a hole for his pleasure. So he had not kissed you once, and it was driving you insane. 

You couldn’t have made a poorer decision in your life. Every scream of pleasure was coated in a paint of pain and discomfort. After you lost count of how many times he made you finish, your stimulation now felt like a series of pins and needles in your nerves, his dark eyes reading your every thought, feeling and emotion. 

Quickly after you made your choice, you realized that you should have picked the latter.

[mothhball]

Dark! Tom (from the party) has had a thing for Janet and Bill’s barely legal neighbor for so long. So at their party, while everyone else is drunk and too oblivious, Tom follows her outside and ((;

THE PARTY FAVOR

DARK!TOM X FEM!READER

summary Tasked with congratulating Janet in your parent's name, you head over to hand over a party favor. But a bottle of champagne isn't the only thing that's being thirsted over tonight.

warnings Tom is a little gross in this lmao. But it's Dark!Tom, so what do you expect 🥴💦 Big age difference!! (Reader is freshly 18, Tom is in his late thirties) P in V , unprotected, hints of drug use, foul language, alcohol consumption, cheating

notes Whoops, this got a little longer than I planned! my last little gift before I go on vacation lmao <3 tysm for requesting this, anon! I had fun writing this! Please turn a blind eye to any mistakes, I'm tired aaaaa

! MINORS DNI !

main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 2.9k

“God, I haven’t seen you in years.”

You tense up at the voice, turning around to stare at a familiar face. You were just in the middle of hyping yourself up to even knock on the door when said door opened, leaving you unprepared and caught off-guard like a deer in the headlights. But it’s not the person you expected. No, instead of the expected Janet, her friend April is staring back at you, throwing a wrench into your plans. See, you’re here on a mission. A mission with easy instructions.

Your parents left a bottle of champagne and a greeting card on the counter before they went to the theater, asking you to head over to your neighbors Bill and Janet to congratulate them on Janet’s ministerial appointment. But now, you’re already going off-course.

“April… lovely to see you,” you smile at her, nodding down towards the gift you brought. But before April can respond, Janet’s voice can be heard from inside.

“Who is it?”

“Your neighbor. The little one. Well, not so little anymore.” April gives you a once-over, not even pretending to be cordial with you. In a way, it’s admirable of her. She never bends over backwards to please people, and she definitely has no trouble speaking her mind. If only she wasn’t such a fucking hater.

Janet joins her in the doorway, looking at you with an expression that’s both relieved and distressed. If you’re the deer in the headlights, she’s the deer that has already made acquaintance with the hood of a bulky SUV.

“Oh, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you to come over, honestly. So lovely to see you. How are your parents?” Janet begins, raising her voice a little to drown out an argument that’s happening inside. You can see the forced smile, the exhaustion in every line on her face. And then, to both April’s and your surprise, Janet invites you inside with a wave of her hand. This wasn’t the plan. Not at all. You’re supposed to hand over the bottle and card and leave. Leave. Going inside the damn house definitely wasn’t part of your instructions.

“Uhm… Look, Janet, if this is a bad time –“ You try to decline, only to be cut off by the hostess of the party.

“No, no. Don’t be silly. Please, come in.” She notices your skeptical glance past her into the house, realizing that, despite her best efforts, you must’ve heard the last syllables of the argument that happened in the living room. Still, Janet puts on a brave face, desperate to play the part of the overjoyed, newly elected minister. The silence between you drags on for a few more seconds before she steps aside to make the invitation even more clear.

“Please,” she repeats, and this time it sounds like a plea you’re too polite to ignore.

The house feels off. You've been over a few times before, and the place has never once felt this… depressing. The living room reeks of misery, and you get the feeling that you stumbled into something you shouldn't be a part of. But now you're here, still clutching the bottle of champagne and the greeting card. There's a little stain on the red envelope, caused by your clammy hands digging into the paper, but you just assume that Janet won’t care.

You’re proven right when she takes the gift from you, only to immediately set the card aside in favor of opening the bottle of champagne. As she pours enough glasses for everyone, she tentatively tries to make conversation.

“I heard it was your birthday? You’re 18 now, aren’t you? God, what an age… So young. And so full of joy…” she trails off for a moment, and you witness in real time how her expression falls and twists into something pained and dejected. Then she catches herself and clears her throat, quickly replacing her sullen demeanor with something more cheerful. A typical politician.

“Well, happy belated birthday.”

Everyone else is stuck in their own thoughts, quietly muttering their congratulations, and you’re once again reminded why you never join the celebrations whenever your parents receive an invitation from Janet. You grace the group with a tight-lipped smile, downing your glass of champagne and accepting a refill.

The slam of the bathroom door almost causes you to drop your drink, and as you look up, you’re met by the sight of Tom stomping back into the room. You pause, unable to stop your eyes as they rake across his form, taking in the tension that has captivated every cell in his body. His forehead is covered by a thin layer of sweat, and his usually neat hair is tousled, plucked apart by skittish hands. You also don’t miss the way he hurriedly rubs the tip of his finger over his gums.

Tom clears his throat, straightening his ridiculously expensive suit jacket as he approaches you, and he meets your gaze with a look of recognition in his baby blues. Out of everyone in this dreadful group of characters, it’s him you get along with the most. At least you did, back when you last spoke and the air didn’t feel as thick as fucking tar. Something about Tom’s arrival only causes the tension to worsen, and you flinch as Janet’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“And your parents? Going on vacation, are they?”

You blink at her, taking a moment to digest the absolute whiplash this entire situation is giving you. This feels hellish, in a way. As if you’ve wandered into your own spinoff of Dante’s Inferno, desperate to crawl out of this ring of hell and back to your room to try and forget this ever happened.

“Yeah… They’re leaving for Italy in two days. Turin. For three weeks.”

Janet nods, looking absent as you answer the question she asked in the first place, and you awkwardly sip on your glass as she starts a new topic without acknowledging your response. You can feel Tom seething next to you as Janet speaks, radiating a nasty energy that’s seemingly directed at the host, sitting not too far away on a chair in the middle of the room. Tom’s jaw clenches, and you can practically hear how his teeth grind together.

Finally, he snaps.

“Are we going to pretend that nothing happened? Are we seriously going to pretend that Bill didn’t fuck my wife?”

The room immediately falls silent, and your eyes almost pop out of your head. So that was the topic of the earlier argument. You look at him, and he scoffs, turning away from the group.

“God, I –“ He cuts himself off, running his hands through his hair and down his face as if he’s trying to wipe the turmoil and exhaustion off his skin. Obviously, to no avail. “I need some air.”

Some minutes pass, and you feel incredibly out of place as another argument starts within the group, only getting worse with every glass of champagne—and now wine—that’s being chugged by everyone involved. You clear your throat, trying make yourself known.

“I should go as well. Uhm… it’s been nice. Congrats again, Janet.”

The woman in question doesn’t even notice that you’re slinking away from the party, too busy glaring daggers into her husband while Bill is talking about Marianne, Tom’s beautiful wife. Good lord, you’ve never felt more relieved to leave someone’s home.

Outside, you march through the small backyard, heading straight to the little gate that separates your property from your neighbor’s, and you’re almost back within your comfort zone when a voice stops you.

“Hey. Come… Come here for a moment.” You look over your shoulder, spotting Tom as he’s leaning against the wall next to the dustbins, head in his hands. Torn between your desire to leave and the empathy you feel for the man, you hesitate for a breath before you approach him.

“Are you alright? I can’t imagine…”

Without answering, Tom lifts the lid off one of the dustbins, revealing a gun sitting pretty among the trash. You can feel the blood draining from your face, and you recoil, breath hitching within your throat.

“Jesus Christ – “

“Shh, shh! I know. Just –“ Tom cuts himself off, raising his hands in an effort to calm you down. When you’re just looking at him instead of running, he lets out a sigh of utter devastation. “You know I can’t do this. And I won’t, but... I… I found out this morning that Bill…”

He shakes his head, unable to finish his sentence, and your heart twists a little as you see the tears welling up in his eyes. In an attempt to comfort him, you reach out to set a gentle hand on his shoulder, which causes him to crumble even more. Tom lets out a choked scoff, shaking his head as his anger grows alongside the grief and disappointment.

“And I’ve always been faithful! I never cheated on Marianne! Even though I’ve had plenty of opportunities! Even… God, even with you around, I’ve always… always kept a grip on myself.”

He sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, before he meets your eyes again, and you startle. There’s still anger in his eyes. But another emotion has joined in as well, filling his gaze with something dark and hungry that causes you to pull your hand back again.

Suddenly, you’re very aware of your situation.

“I’m sick of pretending. Sick of denying myself. I’m a man too, god damnit.”

He’s quick to snatch you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in against his frame. You know you should struggle. You should tell him off. But you’d be a liar if you claimed that he had never once crossed your mind late at night. Tom is the kind of man who inspires your hands whenever you touch yourself. His face is the one you imagine hovering above yours when you’re knuckle-deep in your pretty little pussy.

“Wait, I –“ You try to speak, but he’s quick to maneuver you up against the wall, pressing you against brick and mortar and trapping you in place with his body.

“No. I’ve waited long enough.” He grits his teeth, catching both your wrists to pin them behind yourself over the small of your back and hold them in place with one of his larger hands. “Do you know how hard it was? To see you prancing around… I was always scared you’d have a boyfriend when you turned 18. Lucky me.”

You swallow hard, letting out a squeak as his free hand reaches around to pull up your shirt and bra, revealing your soft skin to the mild air and his eager fingers. Tom rolls one of your nipples between his pointer and thumb, tugging the hardening bud before he moves onto the next one, and you can hear how shaky his breath is getting as he continues to grope your tits. You squirm at a particularly harsh tug, causing him to press you up further against the wall, immobilizing you completely as he undoes his belt and zipper.

His deft hands take care of your jeans and panties next, opening them and pulling them down as much as he needs to gain access to your sweet cunt.

“Tom…” you whine, feeling the head of his cock brushing up against your dripping slit. He grunts in response, not bothering to hear you out as he sinks his length into your velvety folds, causing his breath to shudder against the shell of your ear. You wince, letting out a soft noise of discomfort as he pushes deeper, rolling his hips against yours to set a shallow rhythm.

“You can take it. Look at how fucking wet you are. You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”

You want to protest, but right as you open your mouth, he aims a rough thrust up against that delicious sweet spot within your cunt, luring a filthy noise from your lips that only spurs him on even more. Tom still has your arms restrained, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he stretches you open on his cock, getting your tight walls used to his girth.

His fingers push into your mouth, middle and ring pressing down on your tongue to make you gag and whimper simultaneously. Every time he shoves his fingers deeper, your body tenses and drool dribbles down your chin, right onto your exposed tits. It’s rough and fast, overwhelming you in more ways than one. Tom grunts into the crook of your neck, panting against your skin like a man possessed only by the desire to claim, to mark, to own.

The wedding ring still sitting around his finger clinks against your teeth, and you cringe, letting out a soft whine of discomfort that’s quickly shushed by the man behind you.

“Shh… Just be a good girl for me, yeah? Fuck, you squeeze my cock so well when you gag on my fingers…”

He pounds his hips against yours in quick, deep thrusts, fucking his cock into your cunt at an angle that makes your toes curl and your knees buckle. In that moment, you’re grateful that he chose to take you against the brick wall since you’re heavily relying on the structure and Tom’s grip on you to stay upright.

“And you’re so sweet… You don’t care about my job, right? No, you don’t. You’re not like Marianne. Always being so fucking sentimental on her high horse.”

He spits out the words, silencing any further comments from himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The rhythm of his thrusts quickens as he chases his high, and his hand finally releases your wrists to instead reach between your thighs to rub insistent circles around your clit. The sudden jolt of pleasure draws a wail from your lips, and Tom pulls his fingers free from your mouth to instead stifle any noises more effectively with the palm of his hand. His mouth is next to your ear, allowing you to hear every rasp of his breath and the subtle whine of his voice.

“You’re going to cum for me, right? You’re going to finish nice and quietly like a good girl on my cock, hm? Yes, you are.”

He uses his grip over your jaw to make you nod, and he hums in approval as he meets your hazy eyes. Slowly, the pace of his fingers on your clit builds into a crescendo, and his gaze never once strays away from your face. Like a man dying of thirst, Tom drinks in every twitch in your expression, every breathy groan that’s muffled by his hand. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours right as you cream all over his length, twitching while he fucks you through your climax. Groaning, he removes his hand from your jaw to hold onto the flesh of your hips, pistoning into your fluttering cunt even faster, harder, more desperately.

Finally, his thrusts grow erratic, and he pulls out of you at the very last second, reaching for your panties to shoot his thick cum all over the soft fabric. Tilting his head back, he swallows hard as he milks himself dry with a few more pumps of his hand before he releases his grip on you. You slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath while Tom straightens out his appearance.

“This was… worth the wait,” he pants out, reaching into his pocket to pull out a marker. He kneels down, holding onto your knee, while he writes his phone number on the inside of your thigh, marking your skin with the black ink.

“Text me when your parents are in Venice. Or Turin. Or wherever the fuck they’re going.”

You nod back at him, whispering a small "alright,"  which makes him pause. He gets back up to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before he takes off his wedding ring and drops it into the dustbin right next to the gun. Your eyes meet again, and his expression softens for a split second before he leaves to get back into the house, throwing himself back into the dreadful party and leaving you behind to walk back home with shaky legs and sticky underwear.

Two days later, your parents finally leave for their trip. You follow them to the doorstep, watch with baited breath as luggage is crammed into the family car and the GPS is set up. Then, after the exchange of hugs and goodbyes; after your mom hands you 50 quid as an extra allowance and she waves to you out of the window as your dad starts the motor, they drive off and leave you alone. The house feels dreadfully empty as you close the door and lean against the frame. A minute goes by. Then another.

Eventually, you reach for your phone and open the contact you shouldn’t have saved.

“I’m home alone.”

Sent. Received. Read. For a moment, there’s nothing. You bite the nail of your thumb, grappling with the possibility that he regrets what happened and is now trying to avoid you. And maybe that would be for the best. Maybe you’d be able to move past it and make peace with the fact that you’ll never be able to feel those hands on your skin again. But then those little dots pop up. He’s typing. He’s responding.

“Good girl. I’m coming over.”

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

@detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411

@ashdrinksoatmilk @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

@hanawrites404 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @nocturnest @biblicallyaccuratebee @red-riding-wood

@luvlloyd @smxkyqvxrtz @bloodandglitter207 @rosiemarieyn @sagepixie

@paradiseprincesss @vegasisthinking @ilovedottore @cillianslvt @strangeobsessed

@ryecosse @ribbonystar @calicoartie

[saintmuses]

❝𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣'𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝❞

Pairing:

Tom x Janet and Bill’s Daughter!Reader

Summary:

After Tom found out about the affair between his wife and Bill, surprisingly Janet as well; He went after one person he had been wanting for a while now.

Warning(s): SMUT. Drug usage. Implied minor age gap??? (everyone’s grown). Minor corruption. Protective!Tom. A small flashback in italics. Minors, dni! Note: do not fucking do drugs.

Word Count: 2.4k

“What the hell?”

Tom heard a familiar voice shrieking down the hallway, and he bolted towards where Janet was to see her standing there holding onto the door handle with his gun hanging on her fingers loosely next to her thigh. He turned his gaze to see Y/N standing in the doorway, bewildered with her hand on her chest as if she was about to have a heart attack. He could feel his face softening at the sight of her before his eyes hardened when he turned back to the older woman.

“Put that away before you scare your daughter some more.” He hissed, glaring down at Janet who was abashed by her own reaction.

Later that evening, he walked quietly down the dimmed hallway after leaving the kitchen towards her bedroom.

Jinny and Martha took Bill to stay with them since Janet kicked him out with a ferocious rage on her face despite having a moment of calm while bringing him back.

Then Janet out of guilt wanted him to stay overnight so they could talk about what happened. He was not in the mood to venture out of the place and take a transportation to his empty house, hence why he agreed upon that.

It wasn’t because of that hypocritical bitch; it was something else.

He fucking despised everyone in the house he was standing in. He hated Janet, he hated Bill -at least he had a decency to admit he was having an affair whereas Janet got pissed the fact he was having one while she was having an affair with the same person- he could not stand that miserable cynical bitch April, could barely tolerated Jinny and her wife Martha, then there was self-preaching Gottfried. God, he hated them all. 

They were all so self-absorbed within themselves.

However, there was one person in this house who he did not hate. Ever since he had met Y/N at one of the dinner parties a year ago which was held in April and Gottfried’s home, he gravitated towards her. Soft eyes with a sweet smile.

He placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he propped himself against the doorway that was already opened.

His heart constricted at the sight of her sitting with her legs crossed in her sleepy shorts and plain t-shirt, looking down at the computer technology as the bright light shined on her face.

He gave her a small smile when she looked up from her laptop. “Hey, Y/N.”

She gave him a quirk of lips before her eyes dragged from his face to the screen in front of her. She hesitated before she returned her gaze to his. “Tom?”

He hummed in response, indicating he was listening.

“I’m sorry that your wife…” she trailed off awkwardly before closing her laptop with a quiet sound.

His shoulders shifted as he shrugged. “It’s alright. Our marriage hadn’t been well for a while,” sweat began to collect at his temples. Goddamnit.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s still not an excuse, isn’t it?”

He swallowed thickly, “no. I suppose not.” It came out as a rasp. His fingers trembled slightly, feeling the urge. “I will be right back.”

“You know you don’t have to go to the lavatory for that,” she told him, a knowing glint was shone in her depths.

“You…?”

“It’s kind of hard not to, you’re a bit jittery. It’s in your eyes.” She pointed out softly.

His ocean blue eyes analyzed the bedroom, taking in a mental of things that made to add to her characterization. “Well, I would have to do it in the bathroom since I don’t want to ruin your pretty things.”

“Okay.” She simply said. A beat before she opened her mouth. “Tom?” 

“Yeah, baby?” An endearment slipped from his tongue unbidden

A slight red shade painted her cheeks as she blushed, and he belatedly realized he had called her a pet name. 

“I’ve never tried cocaine,” she mumbled.

He closed the distance between them, his dress shoes barely stopping at the edge of her bed. “You shouldn’t,” he stated, shaking his head quickly. “I don’t want you to get into this stuff, promise me you won’t.” He said, sternly while staring into her eyes.

A pause before a sigh. “I promise.”

A sense of feeling washed over him, and he took a step back, adding the distance between the bed and himself.

“Since you won’t do it in my room, and you don’t want me to do it…can I watch you while you do it in the lavatory?” She asked, nibbling on her lips nervously.

He immediately wanted to say no.

But what if someone else would be too happy to let her watch it, possibly going as far as letting her take a bump or two. He could feel the anger brimming at the surface at the thought. He knew she would listen and would not break her promise to him.

However, why wouldn’t he do it so her curiosity would be satisfied, and she would not feel the need to consult someone else if they were to offer the opportunity.

With that, he changed his mind. He nodded, “come here.” He murmured, holding his hand out for her to latch onto it.

Relishing in the feeling of warmth of her hand as she clasped her fingers around his, and he immediately intertwined them together.

The lights were dimmed in the living room as they walked in the hallway, but he could hear chatter in the kitchen, luckily the door was shut so April, her husband and Janet wouldn’t see them going to the lavatory.

Opening the door, he quickly pushed her in there gently before flicking on the switch. His hand reached and twisted the latch to lock the door behind him once he stepped into the lavatory.

He unbuttoned his blazer before reaching in the inner pocket to drag out a clear plastic bag of white powder, and a card. Dropping them in the bathroom sink.

He had thought about doing it again on the edge of the bathtub, in the same spot that he had done it before. However, she was here.

He dragged his bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it before releasing it as he turned around to look at her with determination in his ocean blue depths. “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.”

“Come here,” he said for the second time today. He took a step back from the sink when she closed the distance. She looked up to him with curiosity in her gaze. He only gave her a small quirk on his lips before turning her around to face the mirror, away from him.

He pushed her head to the side, pushing her strands behind her neck before leaning in.

He inhaled slowly, humming slightly as he glided the tip of his nose against the curve of her neck. The scent of florals engulfed his sense.

He was touch-starved from her skin. Raging inferno bloomed underneath his skin as he looked from afar, always watching her while he had no idea his wife, Marianne was cheating on him with Bill and Janet at the same time. He could’ve had her a while back if he had known.

“You’re trembling, baby.” He whispered; his nose grazed her skin. His hand roamed in front of her body, reaching in the sink absentmindedly until he heard the crinkle of the packet that held the drug as he picked it up from the sink.

He brought it to her collarbone, tilting the bag before spreading the white powder into a thin -as thin as he could- line onto her skin.

Then he closed the bag, throwing it back in the sink before he tilted his head forward.

He inhaled sharply as the white powder drifted into his nostril before lifting his head. He dropped the short metal straw in the sink. Closing his eyes for a release of euphoria as he gripped her waist, his ears prickled at the sounds of her light whimpers. He opened his eyes to see there was residue left behind before he leaned forward, parting his lips. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, lapping the residue off her skin.

He saw them reflecting on the mirror as he lifted his face, his eyes were dilated while half-lidded due to her close proximity.

But the look on her face was just enough to push him over the edge the cocaine could not accomplish.

Tom eventually gripped her jaw, pulling her in quickly as he turned her face to him, their lips colliding with such force that she would have stumbled backwards into the sink were it not for his hand pressing into her back, bringing their bodies closer together. 

“Fuck,” he breathed into her mouth. Pulling back, he turned her around to face the small mirror. He then tucked his fingers into the waistband of her sleepy shorts and panties, bending down as he dragged them down until they hit the tiles. He then forced her legs apart as he urged her to bend over slightly, she had to place her hands on each side of the mirror to hold herself up.

Unbuckling his belt before unzipping them, he then pushed his trousers along with his boxers down his thighs, freeing his cock from the constraint. He stroked it with his fist a few times. 

His hand came down between them to rub the curve of her ass. Then using both of his thumbs, Tom reached down and spread her folds to show him just how eager and ready she was despite not touching her.

“Fuck, you have a pretty pussy.” He breathed, straightening up; bringing his thick shaft to her cunt before slowly began to push into her tight entrance, feeling her slick hole resisting his intrusion. She was very tight.

About halfway in, Tom began to pull himself back until the tip of his cock was right at her tight entrance once more. It flexed and clamped down involuntarily, giving him enough pleasure on its own without even moving. With the way she was shifting on her tiptoes revealed to him just how needy she was. His hands come down to grip at the porcelain sink on either side of her frame.

Tom’s fingers tighten around the sink, using them as anchorage to force the rest of his cock in her cunt.

He simply pulled out before forcing his way back in with a grunt, giving her little hole no choice other than to adjust to his size. Her cunt oozed droplets of warm slick, coating his shaft in arousal.

His cock pulled out of her cunt, quickly sliding back in. He continued the process a few more times until her body relaxed enough to take him fully without resistance. Once he felt her, he began to pound into her, ramming his cock into her tight hole.

He used one hand to collect her hair to the side, bringing his lips to her ear. “It should’ve been you,” he grunted before pressing his lips to the curve of her cheek.

“What do you mean?” She panted the question, eyes squeezing shut as she tried to restrain herself from making any more noises from erupting her throat.

His lips brushed on her skin as he spoke. “You should’ve been my wife.”

The effort was fruitless as those words became her undoing. Her whimpers were strained, swallowing down anything that would give her away in the house due to the walls being thin even down the hallway.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds, baby,” he breathed out, panting as his hips slam into her ass loud enough to echo in the lavatory each time. 

“I can’t, they’re-“ down the hallway, she wanted to say, but couldn’t due to the noises that were threatening to slip. She shook her head, craning her neck to glance at him at the mirror reflecting the image of them. Her brows were furrowed, but her eyes were drawn out similar how a drunk person would look like except she was all cock drunk. 

“Fuck them,” he grunted, letting go of the side of the sink to grip her throat, curling his fingers around one side while his thumb resided on the other of her throat, squeezing hard enough for her to choke. She gasped for air against his palm, her hands still flexing onto the wall. 

When she struggled to give in, his hand crawled up her throat to press against her lips, his fingers prying her mouth open. His fingers pushed further back into her warm mouth, pressing against her tongue as he quickened his pace.

He stared at her at the mirror, full blown lust was etched on his face while hers were just as beautiful which caused him to flex his fingers in her mouth when her drool began to dribble down his fingers eventually making its way to the back of his hand before dripping down to his wrist. He angled his hips in the exact same way, shoving into her with enough force.

His thick cock abused her cunt, stretching her hole so wide around his shaft. With her leg lifted onto the porcelain sink, she was spread for him to slam deeper into her over and over again

His balls smacking against her cunt. It was difficult for her to stay silent; her walls were completely melting against his roughness.

“Tom,” she whined, attempting to warn him.

He needed more, somehow the cocaine fueled his lust to ruin her. He took a hold of her hips with a bruising force, dragging her leg off of the sink, before lifting her until her legs were dangling as he began to pound brutally into her pussy.

About to unravel, she gripped one side of the sink, knuckles straining as her other hand smacked, attempting to grapple the other side of the sink. She tried again. “Tom.”

He heard her, but he didn’t slow down like she thought he would. He merely grunted, moving his body faster as each thrust grew in force. He was fucking her pussy as if it was the last thing he would ever do, ruining her body as much as he wanted. It was his, after all. She was his. 

Her juice was coating his cock as it slid in and out of her cunt. The feeling of her insides tightening and clamping down against his cock was beginning to overwhelm him and he slammed into her, thick ropes of cum starting to shoot out of his tip, pumping into her until there was no longer any room in her cunt.

[cillirishan]

Cillian Murphy as "Tom" icons | The Party (2017)

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Sweet Revenge | Tom (The Party) x fem!reader

Summary: Tom is acting strange and it doesn't take long for a friend to notice while at a party celebrating their mutual friend's political victory. When she steps in to question him about it, she learns more than she thought she would... but it makes their ride in the elevator a little more interesting.

Warnings: Infidelity (from multiple characters), drug use, dubious consent, semi-public sex, smut, p in v, guns, mentions of attempted murder, revenge.

word count: 3386k

Nothing Matters- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

Personal Jesus- Depeche Mode 🎵

Note: Sorry I disappeared for so long! I was dealing with some things and had to put Cillian to the side. I've missed this awesome community! I hope you all still remember me lol.

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!

She heard about the election on the news that afternoon. Saying that she was ecstatic was an understatement. In fact, the moment she heard that Janet won (as she assumed she would) she dressed quickly and arrived at the celebratory party early. She fixed the bunched up fabric on her thigh and scratched an itch beneath the collar around her neck. She raised her fist to knock on the door when the elevator doors pinged and she turned. Tom stumbled out of the elevator, slightly disheveled and sweaty. When he noticed her he ran his hand through his hair and sniffed loudly, his eyes rolling over to meet hers. 

“Tom?” She smiled, her tone friendly and soft. Her eyes traveled up his body, dressed in a dark tailored suit. 

Tom cleared his throat before responding, strangely breathless. “Hello.” He looked behind him at the empty elevator and debated going back inside. The doors slid closed and he turned back dejectedly like a child caught in a crime. 

“You’re here early too,” she rubbed the top of her shoe down her leg, an anxious gesture. 

“Right, right… it's early. Maybe I should come back later.” He muttered beneath his breath and jabbed at the elevator call button. 

“I’m sure it's alright. I’m here early too,” she studied his nervous posture and the way his eyes darted between the hallway’s walls, anywhere but her face. “Where’s Marianne?” 

His face twitched at the mention of his wife’s name. His shirt was sticky against his skin and he wanted to leave. This was a mistake. 

“She’s coming later, told me to go ahead.” He sniffed loudly again and jerked his finger at the door behind her. “Have you already knocked?” His dark hair fell into his eyes where crow’s feet gathered. 

“No, I was just about to.” 

The elevator door opened with a second ping. Tom looked at the open doors and back to her. “Fuck all,” he cursed beneath his breath and met her at the door to Janet’s apartment. She resisted the urge to smell him, though his cologne wandered easily the short distance to her nose (notes of bergamot and spice). 

“Are you alright, Tom?” She asked cautiously and watched as his left hand flexed. He clenched his jaw and forced out a laugh. 

“Never better,” he rang the doorbell and waited anxiously as his heart raced in his chest. Janet opened the door and greeted them with overwhelming excitement. Tom’s resolve weakened and he struggled to remain level headed as he greeted his wife’s friend. This was not how it was originally supposed to go but he still had time… 

Janet invited them into the apartment and talked with her as Tom excused himself with a shaky smile. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he removed his jacket and checked the holsters on either side of his body, draped over his shoulders. Sweat pooled on his shirt and he fanned his hands over it, hoping it would dry. 

The girl watched the bathroom door while keeping a polite smile on her face for Janet who was retelling the events of the day. Loud music erupted from the speakers in the living room and she jumped, her hair standing on end for a brief moment. 

“That’s Bill, will you excuse me for a moment?” Janet wiped her hands on the front of her apron and disappeared into the next room. Her conversation with her husband was muffled by the music. She looked once again at the bathroom door and wiped her clammy hands on her forearms. There was something different about Tom and it irked her, not knowing what was going on. She was closest in age to Tom and Marianne and considered them her friends, though she didn’t actually know them well. She knew, however, that Tom had a problem with coke, all of the finance boys did. His attitude was stranger than usual, more paranoid and jumpy. The music quieted and Janet returned, humming happily to herself. As soon as she did, the doorbell rang and she spun around, clapping her hands excitedly. 

Tom splashed his face with cold water and let it run down his neck, far below his collar. He shivered beneath the water’s temperature and looked up into the medicine cabinet’s mirror. He imagined Bill in the next room, smugly splayed out in his old recliner. He imagined how good it would feel to shoot him, to get revenge against the man that defiled his wife. His wife. Anger flashed in his eyes and he bit down on the sleeve of his suit jacket, screaming silently into the fabric. He heard the doorbell ring and jumped, his heart dropped painfully into his stomach. He checked the gun in his holster for the fiftieth time that day, counting the round of bullets in the chamber. He waited until the new guests moved further into the apartment before leaving the bathroom. 

The girl watched Tom leave the bathroom and pause just before the door frame into the living room. His stomach quivered beneath his dress shirt as he breathed heavily. When she noticed him spin his wedding around his finger in an anxious instinct, she averted her eyes and flushed. He spun right around and went back into the bathroom. She followed him with her eyes, brows furrowed in extreme distress. 

Tom closed the door again and rubbed his face with his shaking hands. He rummaged through his pockets and retrieved a vial of white powder (coke… obvi). Yes, he had a problem. Obviously. Tom wiped the edge of the sink clean with his elbow and shook powder from the vial onto the surface. He arranged the powder in a line and did the line, shaking his head and sitting back against the rim of the bathtub. A smudge of powder stayed on his upper lip, providing evidence of what he’d done. He knocked his knuckles against the soft sides of his head and tried to regain control. He just needed to act normal, go into the living room and be fucking normal. He wiped away the traces of coke on the sink and fixed his hair in the mirror, trying to slick the greased strands back over his head. 

The girl twirled the cord of her necklace around her finger, her eyes stuck on the bathroom door. She jumped again when the door slammed open and Tom stumbled out, his pupils dilated and his eyes crazed. Tom bounded for the doorway into the living room and stopped abruptly. He walked back and forth, muttering beneath his breath as he did. 

“Tom?” She approached him carefully. Her voice startled him from his erratic state. He licked his lips nervously. 

“I forgot something in my car,” Tom blurted out and spun around a last time, walking quickly to the car. She followed him immediately, her eyes trained on the width of his shoulders. 

“I’ll go with you,” she insisted with a backwards glance at the living room, loud with guests. Tom didn’t respond as he made wide strides to the elevator doors. His breath was heavy and hard as he punched the call button and looked down at her, standing at his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. 

“I’m going with you.” She answered apprehensively. Tom cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. 

“You don’t need to do that,” his eyes flicked back at the apartment door. When the elevator doors opened he sighed, debating what to do. He knew better than to go back into the apartment. He’d have to come back another time. She followed him into the elevator and pressed the lobby button for him, her ears growing hot. Tom coughed into his closed fist and started to sweat as the doors closed. 

“Is everything alright, Tom?” She asked him directly as the doors closed and the elevator sunk below the floor. 

“Fine. Fine.” He avoided eye contact and put his hands on his hips, the crotch of his pants bunching around his thighs. He looked up at the floor numbers flashing across the screen above the doors. 

“You don’t seem fine, Tom. What the hell were you doing in there just now?” She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. Tom groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ve just had a long day.”

“Just one?” She asked him with a grunt. “You look like you haven’t slept in days… plural.” 

“Bitch.” Tom snapped and crossed his arms, mirroring her. 

The elevator jolted suddenly and the lights flickered. They stopped their bickering for a moment. She noticed the floor number had stopped at three. The buttons for each floor flashed across the board. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Tom repeated frustratedly and jabbed at the buttons. 

“Stop, you’ll make it worse.” She slapped his hands away and he groaned, resting his head against the wall of the elevator. 

“It’s stuck,” he mumbled and she nodded, her lips falling into a nervous frown. 

“Yes, it appears so.” She studied the buttons and jabbed at the one labeled “call.” 

Hello? The operator answered after a few seconds. 

“Hello, hi. We’re stuck in the elevator.”

I’ll call the fire department and maintenance. There might be a delay due to the parade traffic but we should have you out soon. Call again if anything happens.

“Damn, it sounds like we’ll be in here for a while.” 

“Fuck, just my fucking luck.” 

“You say fuck a lot,” she laughed off some of her discomfort. 

“Fuck you,” Tom added disheartedly. 

She moved back into a corner of the elevator and watched as Tom leaned into the wall, his breath fogging up the gold aluminum wall. 

“You might as well tell me what it is, now that we’ll be here for a while.” She looked down at her shoes and cleared her throat. “Just tell me,” she urged him but Tom only rolled his eyes, the reflection of it projected back at her. 

“Is it the coke?” She tried and Tom laughed. 

“You think I’m like this because of the coke?”

“You’re not giving me any other reason.” She shrugged and Tom turned to face her. 

“That’s not the reason.” 

“You have some of it left above your lip there,” she gestured to her top lip and Tom wiped his mouth quickly with his sleeve.

Tom sighed and slid down the wall into a crouching position, his hands clasped together in front of his face. He exhaled deeply and looked at the opposite wall, away from her. 

“I found out the other day that Marianne has been cheating on me.” His voice wavered as he spoke. 

“What?” She gasped softly. 

He twisted the wedding ring on his finger and chuckled darkly. 

“It’s been going on for months.” 

“Do you know who they are? The person that she’s cheating with?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed and her heart beating quickly. 

“Yes,” he answered again with a chuckle, his voice pained. “She’s been fucking Bill.” 

“Bill?!” She slapped a hand across her mouth. “Her advisor? Bill’s cheating on Janet? What the fuck?!” The words all fell out of her mouth. Tom shook his head and with one angry movement chucked his wedding ring across the elevator at the opposite wall. The small piece of metal bounced off the wall with a sharp noise and settled between them on the floor. 

“So you were going to confront him?” She asked, everything coming together. 

He nodded and without warning, started to sob. She immediately knelt beside Tom and patted his back awkwardly. Tom, rather comedically, collapsed into her chest, his hands grappling at her sides. Her heart began to race as his face inched closer to her breast. Her hands shaked as she combed his hair (heavy with product) out of his eyes. 

“He stole my wife! He stole my wife,” he cried against her chest. 

“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she carded her fingers through his hair. The texture of his warm skin beneath her fingertips distracted her. The smell of his expensive cologne and hair product flooded her system. She resisted the urge to lick the scent from his neck, taut with tendons. Geez, she was a creep. Tom’s baby-like tears stained her shirt and made the material stick to the skin below. 

“Does Marianne know that you know?” She tried to focus herself back on the situation. 

“No, I saw it on her phone,” he hiccuped pitifully. “They’ve been fucking in my bed, our bed!” 

She shushed him softly as he started to cry again. His manic sobs racked his thick and muscular body. 

“Are you going to divorce her?” She whispered and Tom shook his head softly.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

Tom pulled away and laid his head back against the elevator wall. She could make out all of the freckles and sun spots across his high cheekbones. She sighed as she reached a hand to his face and swept a tear away from his jaw. Tom turned his clear blue eyes to her’s. His wide lips quivered slightly as he panted from all of his emotions. 

“What she and Bill did is inexcusable, Tom. She doesn’t deserve you if she thinks this casually unfaithful behavior is ok.” She was on her knees now, her thighs flexed beneath her dress. 

Tom’s eye traveled up her body, starting on her fleshy thighs. She watched him curiously. Was he doing what she thought he was? Was he checking her out? Tom’s hand rose from the floor beside him and moved to her knee. 

“Y/N…” he whispered pitifully. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she nearly choked on her own exhale. His thumb rubbed circles into her exposed skin. She knew that she shouldn’t but what more harm could it do? Tom wanted to get back at his wife and she wanted to be fucked by Tom. Win/win situation- no, stop it. Don’t look at me like that! It’s totally ethical. Besides, the way his body leaned into her brought about a powerful force of attraction between them. The streaks of graying hair caught the fluorescent light like plastic rhinestones. 

She leaned forward, into his mouth and exhaled softly against his lips. Tom kissed her first, capturing her lips into a harsh kiss. She kissed him back and tugged gently at the roots of his hair. He moaned excitedly around her lips. Words failed them as they kissed. Their hands spoke softly to each other, begging and asking for more. She pushed off Tom’s coat, exposing the holster strung between his shoulder blades. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered, her eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing with a fucking gun, Tom?” 

“I-I just wanted to get back at them, at him. I’m just so angry,” Tom panted emotionally, his hands shaking. She looked between him and the gun and sighed. 

“I can think of another way to get back at them that doesn’t involve this,” she pointed at the gun strapped around his shoulder. Tom looked up at her, his eyes wide as she closed the distance again. She rose on her knees so that she could be taller than him and cupped his jaw. 

“I can think of something that we should do to get back at them,” she whispered against his wide lips. Tom didn’t respond, his heart beating fast and not just because of the cocaine.

“It goes something like this,” she kissed him with hesitant pecks before settling into a deep rhythm. His hands finally started to move up her hips, grasping the edge of her waist. His breath labored against her and she allowed a shuttering moan to escape; a product of pent up energy. 

“Tom… Tom..” she muttered between kisses, her hands pulled up on his stiff white collar, urging him closer. 

“Mmhm..” Tom hummed softly and guided her onto her back, sitting up between her knees. He towered over her and panted, his hands fumbling over his fly. She pulled down her own underwear and kicked it off her ankles. Tom pulled down his pants slightly and boxer briefs, immediately freeing his cock from his pants. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her closer. She slid across the elevator floor and slammed against his waiting hips. She giggled nervously, her face pink. 

“Are you wet enough?” Tom asked quickly, his hand fisting his erection. His dress shirt trailed over his hands, hiding some of his actions from her view. She nodded eagerly and raised the excess of her dress, pulling the material over her upper thighs. Tom nodded breathlessly and entered her without much warning, she gasped and clenched her fists. 

Tom cursed loudly beneath his breath as he filled her up completely. Her body stretched to accommodate him and the sensation sent shivers up both of their bodies like a cold chill. Tom thrusted at a slow rhythm as he worked himself deeper inside her. She whimpered loudly and steadied herself against the hall of the elevator as she slid back and forth on the floor. 

As her body opened more and more, his thrusts became harder and faster. He leaned over her and planted his hands firmly on the floor on either side of her waist. Bringing his hips closer to her, he fucked her aggressively. Instead of dragging out his hips before each thrust, he stayed as deep as possible inside of her and thrusted farther. 

“God you’re so good,” Tom panted as his mouth fell open into a moan. His eyebrows furrowed to keep him focused. 

“Mm-Marianne is an idiot,” she whined around her words and dug her fingers into Tom’s back. Tom fucked her faster as a response, proving himself to her. 

“Fuck- take it. Take it.” He commanded and she gasped as her orgasm grew. He panted with his mouth held open, his hips thudding against her. His curses flew from his mouth in octaves that grew higher as he felt himself spilling over the edge. 

“Tommmm,” she trailed off, mumbling incoherently. He slowed down as he reached his climax so that he could see her reaction. He lowered himself closer to her and laced his fingers gently around her throat. Pulling one of her legs closer around his hip, he fucked her deeply but slow. His fingers flexed and tightened around her soft neck. He studied her closely, sweat pooling between his shoulders and the peak of his brow.

“I know, honey. I know. Marianne could never handle this but you like it when I fuck you. You’d beg me, wouldn’t you?” He whispered as his cock began to flex inside of her. She squeezed her thighs and he grunted, forcing himself through her body’s automatic resistance. She nodded and licked her lips. 

“Fuck, you feel so much better than her.” He continued to grunt, his teeth gritting. She pulled at the graying roots of his hair, her palms cradling his face. With a sharp yell, Tom finished inside her. His hips rocked against her until he had spilled everything out inside her. Their panting filled the air between them and synced into a rhythm. 

“That was fucking amazing, Tom.” She whispered, her voice weak over her racing heart. 

“Kiss me,” Tom growled. She raised her head slightly to place a kiss on his chapped lips. They kissed sweetly, until a steady beeping noise drew them away from their bodies. The elevator’s panel lit up as it was restarted. They hurriedly separated. Tom tucked in his shirt and buttoned his pants. She pulled her underwear back on and smoothed down her hair. Seconds later, the elevator doors opened to a team of mechanics. The mechanics raised their eyebrows collectively at the couple inside, their faces flushed and sweaty handprints still visible on the elevator’s walls. 

“Thank you so much,” she tried to smile normally at the men as they stumbled out of the elevator. Tom gave the mechanics one more backwards glance before they hurried for the stairwell. Slamming the door closed behind them, Tom shoved her up against the wall inside the stairwell. The sound reverberated up the cement structure, ringing in her ears. He kissed her neck, sucking parts of her flesh to make small hickeys. She sighed as she pulled his face to meet her again and kissed him, her lips pulled into a smile.

“We should do this again,” Tom mumbled darkly against her lips. She nodded and bit his bottom lip gently. 

“How about right now?”   

[feasibilities]

Sight and Smell - Tom x Married!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: Tom has feelings for you and won't let anyone stop him from telling you how he feels. Warnings: Drug Use, Infidelity, Allusions to Cuckolding, Sex as Punishment, Choking, Pining, etc. Author's Note: Readers need love too! I did some research on luxury hotels in Dublin as well (because I want a late-night rendezvous with Cillian in one of them). Also, thank you @mothhball for tagging me in the prompt that spawned this insane story. I hope you enjoy it!

The sight of your beautiful smile and the smell of your redolent perfume were mainstays of Tom’s psyche. He knew your husband, Seán, since they were kids. You came along during secondary school. He knew it was wrong to lust for any woman who wasn’t Marianne, but you were different. For the first time, he felt a deep-seated jealousy toward his friend. Knocking on the front door, Tom was finally prepared to tell you how he really felt. This party would go down in history. 

“Hey, Tom. Seán will be here soon. Won’t you come in?” You smiled sweetly. You noticed that he looked disheveled and restless. 

“Of course.” Tom replied. While you led him to the kitchen, he admired how your black dress hugged your figure. He hated that Seán got to see the treasures that lie underneath. 

“Where’s Marianne?” You inquired, going back to cleaning the champagne flutes. 

“U-um, she wasn’t feeling well so she stayed back.” Tom faltered, taking quick peeks at your cleavage. 

“Ah. Well, I hope she feels better soon. How have you been?” You asked.

“Fine.” Tom answered plainly

Walking toward him, you placed the back of your hand on his forehead. 

“Are you feeling okay, hun?” You asked innocently. 

Taking your hand away, Tom hurried to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. You heard him lock it shut shortly after. You stood there stunned before continuing to prepare for the party. 

After separating the thin white powder into lines, he gummed what was left over on his fingers. Snorting each line was like a hard reset for his body. His heart felt like it was clawing its way out of his chest. Collapsing near the bathroom sink, he trembled and cursed himself. He sat himself up in a corner and breathed deeply. The palpitations of his heart subsided. 

Hearing offbeat jazz come from the living area, Tom jumped up and gathered himself. He had to get this out of his system before guests arrived. It was now or never. 

“I need to talk to you.” Tom blurted out, watching you arrange hors d'oeuvres on multiple platters. 

“Fucking hell, Tom. You scared me half to death.” You jumped. 

“Listen, it’s very important-“ Tom started.

“Can it wait until after the party, hun?” You corrected.

“It can’t.” Tom said, growing irritated by the second. 

“Fine. What is it?” You said, exasperated. 

“I have loved you since I met you all those years ago. I think about you all the time. I hate that Seán got to you first.” Tom confessed, staring into your eyes. 

You stayed silent and stared back at him. You felt a mix of panic and curiosity. Seán would kill Tom with his bare hands if he heard this conversation. Tom’s advances made sense—especially since you felt the same way. You loved your husband with all of your heart, but you can’t say you never thought about leaving. He was away for work way too much. When he was here, he wasn’t present emotionally. Intimacy was poorer than it had ever been. You yearned for something different—rather, something electrifying. Tom was the closest you could get.

“We can’t do it here, Tom. I can meet you in a hotel after the party. Now, take these platters into the dining room. Be careful to not let anything fall.” You ordered. 

Tom’s eyes widened at your proposal. You’ve never seen him move so fast in the time that you knew him. Guests, including Seán, began to arrive. He kissed you deeply and gave you an embarrassingly hard smack on your ass. It felt like he was putting on the show of a happy couple in front of everyone. Tom was left to brood angrily as you gave him sympathetic glances throughout the party. Shortly after everyone’s departure, you got a text from Tom about your impending rendezvous.

Room 427 at The Westbury. Hope you’re still up for the challenge. 

“Challenge?” You murmured as you applied your makeup at your vanity.

“Where are you headed, love?” Seàn slurred, toying with your hair. He was too drunk to notice you flipping your phone over. 

“Out with friends. I’ll be back late.” You replied. 

“You know, I want to spend more time with you. I miss you.” He said, kissing your shoulder and starting to untie your house robe. This was another empty promise. You politely moved his hands and went back to finishing your makeup. 

“We can spend time together when I get back, Seán. I need some time to myself, ’s all.” You said. Finally getting the message, he stumbled to the bed and fell asleep.

— 

“Fuck, right there…” You moaned as Tom thrusted into you at steady pace. You raked your nails down his back—marking your territory for the time being. He stared down at you with the same admiration earlier. He loved the way your breasts moved with each thrust. He loved the resplendent noises you made when he bottomed out. You clenched around him as your legs began to shake.  Your eyes fluttered shut before you felt his hand grab your throat. He squeezed enough to limit your blood flow. You were lightheaded, but still conscious.

“Open your fucking eyes. This is what you wanted, right?” Tom hissed, speeding up his movements. This time was much more brutal.

“Yes.” You whimpered, feeling like you were about to break in half. 

Tom kissed you harshly and watched as you fell apart. Unintelligible praises came from you as he pounded you into the plush mattress. Your walls spasmed frenetically as you came. He wanted to make sure that you thought of him every time you fucked Seán. To his own perverse wish, this was payback for not choosing the better man.  Flipping you on your stomach, Tom yanked your hips backward and started taking you from behind. He put a pillow underneath you to soften the blows, but to no avail. He was reaching depths that your husband dreamed of. You weeped quietly and 

“Would be fucking sick if Seán came in and saw me nailing his wife, eh?” Tom teased, panting in your ear. A cruel part of you got off on the thought of him listening in on you two. Maybe he would give you the attention you deserve. A faint “Mhmm” emitted from you in response. 

“Cum inside me.” You cooed, looking back at him with heavy eyes. You bit your lip and clenched around him once more. His thrusts staggered as he came with a loud groan. You sung his praises as he came down from his high. Pulling out, he saw his seed beginning to spill out of you. He caught some with his fingers and pushed it back inside.  He pumped himself mindlessly before laying next to you. His stark blue eyes studied your features. He traced his fingertips along your back. You looked back at him lovingly before drifting off to sleep. 

Grabbing your lace underwear from the floor, Tom huffed them desperately. Similar to cocaine, he felt a sense of euphoria. He took in the sweet, earthy scent as he grew hard again. He didn't want to disturb you, so he walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He finally got what he wanted. 

[luluartpop]

Stress Level: Cillian Murphy Characters

[fkmarrycill]

The Party BTS. His rapt attention is so... 🫦

[sllystupidfyodor]

I am looking for a man in finance, Trust fund, 6'5, blue eyes

[viesanterieures]

[cillianmurphyfanatic]

Cillian Murphy as Tom in The Party (2017) dir. Sally Potter